


only the good

by dwoht



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: F/F, shelby is so complex please, this is just me inserting every headcanon and reasoning i think she has
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:47:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28524198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwoht/pseuds/dwoht
Summary: “I bet you think of all the different ways you could get back at me,” Toni says. Shelby looks away, but those unwavering eyes are like a fucking magnetic pull, and their gazes lock again. “If you had the guts.” She steps forward, closer and closer, and then, “You’ve got a lot of people here thinking you’re all unicorns and rainbow shit. But I see you.”And, God, Shelby hopes so.or,the wilds from shelby's point of view.
Relationships: Shelby Goodkind/Toni Shalifoe
Comments: 18
Kudos: 169





	only the good

In a way, the teeth thing became a secret weapon.

Against her, sure, if anyone were to find out, but it also works in Shelby’s favor sometimes. Whether she’s slipping from the confines of her closed bedroom door out into a Christmas party with her family, or sliding into a locked bathroom stall at school away from the bustle of the hallways, it’s the same.

Shelby’s teeth are her armor. Her costume. Her cue to be a certain person.

Teeth out? Elbows on the table. A curved spine against the cushion of her pillows. A frown. A wrinkle in her brow if she’s frustrated, or even a clench of her jaw if she’s really angry.

Teeth in? Sit up straight. Mention the Good Lord, and maybe even Jesus himself a couple times. Smile wide, eyes bright. Polished, Christian, proper.

And now, climbing onto a private plane about to meet eight other girls, her teeth are most decidedly in.

The girls are fairly… normal looking, all things considered. Shelby’s parents hadn’t told her exactly what this trip was for, but it was clear who she was meant to be when she got back. Either way, she wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t girls that look so ordinary.

There’s Dorothy, of course, who Shelby knows vaguely from school.  Well, she knows the girl wears cargo shorts and short, dyed hair, and keeps to herself. All in all, the complete opposite of each other. She also knows her dad is sick — _was_ sick —, as she and her family prayed for him over dinner many nights.

(When he passed on, Shelby felt a frighteningly strong urge to ask her father why they even pray if God does whatever he feels like anyway. She didn’t, though.)

There’s an Asian girl, who might be the only one more talkative and obnoxiously friendly than herself, and Shelby almost cringes wondering if this is what she looks like to the rest of them. Probably.

But, their approval isn’t important. Quite frankly, Shelby couldn’t give a fuck what they think of her. She would love them to like her, of course, but what really matters is that her parents are satisfied with the result of this… program.

Shelby isn’t ready to entertain what would happen if she hops off the plane back in Texas and they aren't happy with what they see. She’s heard about what happens to girls like her — rather, girls who her parents think she’s like —, and it’s not as peaceful as reading Bible passages in her living room.

The retreat has to work. It just has to.

_And it will if it kills me_ , she thinks to herself. Biting back a wince, Shelby pops to her feet, and spreads out a smile across the group, looking them up and down as she moves along the rows.

There’s a girl from California, Fatin, and Shelby wonders if they could have been friends if they’d lived in the same town. Well, and if Fatin weren’t a highly sex positive person, and also Muslim, and also if Shelby’s dad was much less racist and misogynistic.

(So, okay, probably not.)

The other girl from California is tucked into the back with her legs up, and a book in her hands. She practically bites off Shelby’s face with a glare, when she turns her way.

Fatin whispers, “That’s Leah,” to her as she hurries away, and then says, “She’s…” and makes a vague shrugging motion.

Next, there’s a set of twins, although they don’t seem very much alike. One is clearly an athlete, dressed in sportswear, and an intensity in her eyes that reminds Shelby of her soccer days. The other is much more like Leah, though at the very least, she smiles back at Shelby.

There’s two girls next to each other, and Shelby clocks them as soon as she walks up. The first is clearly the nice one, with a soft pink shirt, approachable hair, and a sort of air to her that makes her seem instantly non-confrontational.

The other is… the opposite.

She’s small, smaller than Shelby, and she even sits sort of tucked up into herself. Her skinny arms and legs stick out of basketball shorts and a muscle tee as she curls in towards her friend across the aisle, but there’s something else about her.

Maybe it’s the bite in her tone, compared to the residual sigh from her friend, or the look in her eyes, like she’s studying everything she sets her gaze on at as if it’ll tell her something, but it catches Shelby off-guard.

She brushes it off, and grabs her arm saying, “You can come with me,” and then as soon as she slaps her hand across her shoulder, she immediately recoils on herself and all but shoves the girl down into a seat across from one of the twins — Rachel.

With a satisfied nod, Shelby deposits herself back into the seat the girl was sitting in. Swimming in the back of her mind is the knowledge that she knows ‘the girl’s name is Toni, but she doesn’t want to… well, it doesn’t matter.

“Alright,” she says, sticking out a hand. “I’m Shelby. And you are?”

“Martha,” she says, shaking her hand tentatively.

“Martha,” Shelby repeats, “it’s a pleasure.” Before Martha can get another word out, not that Shelby thinks she would, she immediately starts up with, “Let me tell you a little bit about me. I do real, okay?” Whatever the fuck that means. “I do family, I do Jesus, I do pageants.”

It’s not the best elevator pitch of herself she’s ever done, but she’s nervous, so sue her. And, by the look on Martha’s face, it gets the point across. As frustrating as it is to double down on this identity she’s created for herself, she feels secure in knowing her role on this trip as the peppy, suburban Christian girl is set in place perfectly.

Martha is sweet, too, she really is. She just blushes when Shelby compliments her eyes, and doesn’t say much, but it’s clear she’s listening. 

“Boys aren’t really into me,” Martha is saying, and looks bashfully down at her plate.

“That you know of,” Shelby says back.

“I’ve got a pretty good lay of the land,” Martha says, and there’s an amused smile lingering on her lips when she looks down again.

Shelby almost debates not eating the cake at all because in the back of her mind she can still hear her dad making fun of her in front of her entire family when she ate a second piece of candy on Halloween, but she decides _not_ eating it is weirder.

“You just need one good one,” Shelby says with a shrug, and then, as if on autopilot, launches into, “Andrew, oh, he is _such_ a keeper. For our anniversary, he got me an actual star. Like, in the sky. And he named it after me.”

She tries to hide her panic when Martha points out the cake in her teeth, but she can tell she doesn’t do a very good job when even Leah from the back of the plane looks up as she rockets past and into the bathroom.

The seal of the door behind her is like a breath of fresh air. Carefully, Shelby dislodges her teeth, and rinses them under the sink.

Teeth out. Deep breaths, in and through her nose like she’s taught her younger siblings to do when they feel overwhelmed. _It’s just a weekend_ , she chants to herself, _It’ll be fine_. And then, trying not to let her inner voice sound too mocking, she thinks, _I have God on my side_.

Apparently, God has not gotten the message, because she’s still checking her smile in the mirror when the plane immediately starts to shake and thrash.  Very briefly, she wonders if this is what she gets for questioning her faith, and questioning God, and questioning everything she’s been taught. Then, she drops to her knees and starts praying.

The thin, gold cross is small in her hands, but it’s warm from sitting against her skin, and for all intents and purposes it’s familiar and comfortable. Praying is comfortable. It’s what she knows how to do best, besides maybe spin class and pageants.

The words come easily, then, empty promises here, apologies there, and the underlying consistency of begging God to let her live through this. _I’ll never question you again_ , she thinks, knowing it’s not true, and wondering whether God can tell if she’s lying. She’s just about to try again with a bit more honesty when —

Shelby wakes up.

Her clothes are dry and warm on her body, but the sand below her is moist and cold beneath her fingers as she pushes herself up. Her jacket has mysteriously migrated from around her shoulders to tied at her waist, and there’s something wrong with her teeth.

She runs her tongue along the roof of her mouth, and then slips the dentures out, holding it up to the light. Not that she needs to, because the crack along one of the sides is larger than the fucking Grand Canyon.

Teeth out. “Mother _fucker_ ,” she curses loudly.

“Shelby!” a panicked voice comes from behind her, sweet and panicked.

Shoving her teeth back in, Shelby turns and starts racing towards the sound. The sound turns out to be Martha, trapped in the currents of the tide, and being pulled towards either the open ocean or a large rock. Neither is an appealing ending.

Getting her back is fairly easy, but as soon as Martha collapses into her side, with her fingers tugging at her shoulder, Shelby can tell she’s hurt. Her fingers go straight to work tugging Martha’s socks down, and the ankle is angry and red.

_Fuck_. _God, this is a real dick move of you._

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Martha’s whimpering, and Shelby immediately tries to coax her back down from the spiral she can see a mile away.

“No,” she says, tugging her shirt off to hide the way her face says, _Yes_. “It just needs a little TLC, that’s all.”

All things considered, Shelby thinks she’s doing pretty well. She wraps Martha’s ankle, and helps them stumble over towards the bigger group towards the shore. Some of them are still in the water, some hovering around, and then one is turning and running full speed towards her.

Well, not _her_. Towards Martha.

During these seven seconds, Shelby is struck by two thoughts: first, for an athlete, Toni doesn’t look like she has very efficient running form. Second, she doesn’t know when the last time she had someone in her life who would look at her the way Toni’s eyes are gripping Martha tight.

_Yes, you do_ , her brain says, but before she can let herself spiral down that train of thought, she’s stumbling back as Toni wraps her arms around Martha and is mumbling something equally as endearing as it is angry.

She intends to avoid Toni, she really does. She’s not sure why, exactly, because Toni apparently hates her, and she’s not feeling too great about the other girl either, but her brain keeps replaying, _Apparently, her mom found her in her car_.

Shelby’s never been a stranger to doubting God before. Heck, she can practically track her growth via moments that made her stop and start to question what she was being told.

There was the time her father spit on a homeless man when she was six, and then went home and said a prayer giving thanks for what they had, and praying God would give the same to those who didn’t.

When she was ten, her mother told her all about the sin of premarital sex, and the horrors of abortions.

Her mother told her about a girl she knew when _she_ was in high school, who had gotten pregnant her junior year. She developed complications in the third trimester, and it was suggested she abort because the baby would die anyway, and so might she, but she was pressured out of it by her church for the sake of saving the baby.

And both of them had suffered anyway, all the way to the hospital, and all the way up to Heaven. At least, that’s what her mother said they went. They got into heaven because they sacrificed two lives instead of one that would have gone anyway.

At ten, Shelby didn’t do much in-depth thinking about it, but the story wouldn’t go away as she got older. She just kept wondering why God would ask a girl like that to do such a thing, and then punish her for it anyway.

When Shelby was thirteen, she started wondering how God could love everybody while also considering the majority of people to be sinners. According to her father, the list of acceptable folks were those who looked and talked and acted and believed identically to her. Anyone who deviated was a sinner.

The logic wasn’t really there, but she was thirteen, and who was she to question it?

And when Shelby was sixteen, God let her best friend die.

So, yeah, she avoids Toni. Or at the very least, she _tells_ herself she will, because somehow Shelby winds up marching into the jungle with her. 

“Keep your ears peeled,” Shelby says, not looking to see if she’s following. “You’ll hear moving water before you see it.”

“How come you know all this?” comes Toni’s reply.

Shelby sighs, and shoots a small smile back, “This may surprise you, but I’m not just some delicate indoor princess.” She shrugs. “I go hunting with my dad, like, all the time.”

“So you do _one_ hardcore thing?” Toni says, mockingly. “That doesn’t mean you’re not an indoor princess.”

And then she’s off and rambling, probably saying something mean, but all Shelby can do is focus on not falling off the mountain while she tries to hide her smile.

When Toni’s upset at her, which apparently is all the time, her voice shifts up and down from its low hum, and she talks a _lot_ , and she makes all sorts of facial expressions that should be nothing short of condescending, but are somehow cute.

(Not that Shelby notices.)

When Toni’s done, she gives back her reply, and though she can’t really remember what it is she’s saying, she _does_ take in the blissful view of a silent, stewing Toni, and then all of a sudden she has her hands on her shoulders as she steps in.

“Can you turn around?” she says, flushing at herself as she realizes she’s looking Toni up and down. She pushes her one last time on the shoulder. “I have to pee.” Shelby’s about to squat, when she adds, “Plug your ears? Otherwise I’ll have to sing.”

Toni does not.

So, sing it is, and Shelby picks the most obnoxious song she can think of.

**__**

The first night is cold.

She hasn’t been drinking much, or really at all, and as much as she’s covered as best she can, the chill in the wet sand seeps into her bones with every passing second. Shelby can hear the others shifting around, and whether they’re trying to get warm or just stuck in an unfortunate case of insomnia, she doesn’t know.

Flopping onto her back, she bites back a shiver at the newfound cold that washes over her midsection, and stares up at the stars.

She can’t count the number of nights she’s spent looking up at the sky, and just asking questions. At first, to God, then to the stars, and now to anyone who will listen.

She can still remember being eight years old, and crawling out of bed long past her bedtime. She knelt in front of her window seat, making sure to keep her light off so her parents wouldn’t see and she prayed.

At first she prayed for her cousin, Hannah, who she still hasn’t seen again to this day. Then, she prayed for their family, hoping they would find peace. And then she prayed for herself, hoping that people would never have to pray about _her_ this way.

Over the years, that tradition never changed. Plagued with insomnia only an identity crisis could bring about, Shelby’s nighttime wonderings and wanderings only grew more intense.

Slowly, she went from kneeling at the window to curling up on the window seat itself. Other times, she just watched the stars from her bed, and on some nights, she would wait until her parents went to sleep, and then steal out into the backyard to breathe fresh air while looking up.

_Why was it a problem that Hannah wanted to move in with her girl friend? Why weren’t we allowed to talk about her anymore? Where did she go? Would she be back?_

_What did it mean if Shelby didn’t like any of the boys in her class? Well, Andrew was kind of cute. Other girls really liked him, at least, and he was nice. Was that good enough? Did that count as a crush?_

_It’s normal to just really want to be someone’s friend, right? To just admire them so much you always want to spend time with them, and talk to them, and be with them, and you think about them all the time, and you hate when they hang out with other people? Right?_

_Please, God, I’ll do anything if you make me straight._

(Shelby distinctly remembers that she couldn’t even phrase it with the word ‘gay’ in it.)

_Why did I have to do that? Why did Becca have to say that? Why did you not save her?_

She’s never gotten any answers. For all her night time questionings, she’s really no closer to the truth than she was before.

And now, in the most absurd of circumstances, she lies awake and stares at the stars, and wonders what it is about Toni that’s so fucking infuriating. It reminds her of how Becca used to tease her about everything when they were younger.

The next few days are about as predictable as ever, which is to say, not.

A heart-to-heart with Dot, a rainstorm that absolutely soaks them to the bone, the waterfall, the black box.

It might be the first time that Shelby has no idea what to do. There are no rules here, no expectations for her. Heck, _she’s_ probably the most conservative and uptight out of all of them. For someone like her, it’s weird.  She’s so used to be told how she’s supposed to act, where she’s supposed to go, who she’s supposed to talk to, and what she’s supposed to wear. She’s used to practicing her smile in the mirror, and spending a week deciding how she’s going to greet people at a party.

But here it’s just different.

After the stupid shelter building contest, which was her own shit-show of an idea, Shelby finds herself, against her better judgement, going to look for Toni. She’s off towards the side of where they’re currently camped out, and around a corner so she’s hidden from view.

She sighs, wondering what the fuck she’s even supposed to say, and wondering if Toni might actually just deck her for trying to talk to her.

_Well, whatever._ She shrugs. “It’s hot as Hades today.” Toni doesn’t say anything, so she continues, “Every religion has their version of hell. The Greeks had Hades, Islam has Jahannam, Southern Baptists have their fire and brimstone kind.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure this is hell,” Toni mumbles, “having to listen to you lecture.”

A smile is brought forth at that. “Well, maybe it is. Hell _is_ where the Lord sends us when he’s trying to teach us something.” She smirks, but it falls flat when she realizes how painfully true the words are. “I know he’s trying to teach me patience.”

That brings a grin to Toni’s own lips. “I _do_ bug you. I knew it.”

“I just don’t understand why you run so hot all the time,” Shelby says, tilting her head to the side. The truth is, though, she _does_ know. It’s the same reasons she would, if she were able, but she adds, “Martha says it’s not just about me. You’ve always been this way.”

Toni doesn’t answer. She just swallows, looking down, and then, “That first day — why haven’t you told anyone how I smacked you with the branch?”

“Because it was an accident —“

“— we both know that it wasn’t.” They stare each other down for a second, and then Toni looks her up and down. “So, what are you waiting for?”

“I’m waiting to get off this island so that I never have to think about you ever again,” she chokes out, and for all the intents of it being a great comeback, it doesn’t really play the part. The sheer terror that they _will_ get off the island is stronger than anything. 

“I bet you think of all the different ways you could get back at me,” Toni says. Shelby looks away, but those unwavering eyes eyes are like a fucking magnetic pull, and their gazes lock again. “If you had the guts.” She steps forward, closer and closer, and then, “You’ve got a lot of people here thinking you’re all unicorns and rainbow shit. But I see you.”

And, God, Shelby hopes so.

She can’t stop herself from searching Toni’s face for any indication that she _knows_. Knows more than Shelby herself might, even. Her gaze flickers down to her lips, and then right back up to her eyes, but Toni makes no indication that she noticed.

As she turns to go, childish as it is, Shelby reaches out with a foot and shoves Toni forward a bit. It’s really lame, and the amusement on Tonis’ face when she turns is absolutely infuriating. “That all you got?”

“I’ve got the strength for lots more,” Shelby says, walking up to meet her. “But I’m not going to waste it on you. You’re not worth it.”

“You know know who clings to religion?” Toni says, but it comes out as more of a statement than anything. “People who like to tell themselves a nice story about who they are, because they know deep down, they’re hiding some pretty fucked up shit.”

And then her eyes are traveling down to Toni’s lips, again, and she’s wondering if it would finally shut her up if she just kissed her. For argumentative purposes, of course. Before she can do anything stupid like actually do it, Toni’s turning and walking away.

Thank God. Or not. She hasn’t decided.

**—**

It all comes to a head when they’re eating those damn oysters.

“I’m a Christian,” Shelby says, knowing fully well that the only person she’s trying to convince is herself. “I’m from a very Christian home, so I’m allowed to be a little… skeeved out.”

She doesn’t even know _why_ she’s saying it, because that would require way too much introspection than she has time for right now, but she just can’t stop herself, and then Toni is looking at her with so much frustration in her eyes, and it cuts into her heart in a way it hasn’t before.

“I mean, that’s not all that’s going on here,” Toni scoffs, “Don’t bullshit me, Shelby, ‘cause the vibe that’s coming off of you right now? I’ve felt it a few too many times to not know what it is.”

“What are you saying, Toni?” Martha pipes up.

“I’m saying she can’t stand that I’m fucking gay, Marty, that’s what skeeves her out,” Toni spits.

“That’s not true,” Marty says, but the hesitant smile on her lips tells Shelby she thinks it might be.

“Look, I’ll be as honest as possible,” Shelby says, which is evidently not very. “I do believe that way of life is a sin.”

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Toni says, forcing herself to her feet.

“I’m sorry,” Shelby says, “but everything I’ve ever known has taught me that.”

It’s a terrible excuse, given she and Dot grew up in the same town, and went to the same school, but it’s all she has. It’s all she has, because it’s not true at all.

She’s only kissed one girl before. Even then, it was brief, and now it’s tainted by too much horror and guilt, but at the time?

Shelby knew right away that being gay could never be a sin, and just knew that it was a lie that being gay would send you to hell, because being wrapped up in Becca’s lips brought her closer to Heaven than she’d ever been before.

“Fuck you,” Toni spits at her. The way she’s looking down isn’t teasing like on the mountain. It isn’t bitter, like during the shelter building contest fight. It isn’t frustrated, or amused, or angry, or any of the other many emotions Toni has thrown at her already.

This is betrayal. This is brokenness.

This is exactly how Becca looked as Shelby threw the worst words she could come up with at her.

And suddenly, she knows right away why she’s so eager to say this shit that she knows is going to be unforgivable. She’s been down this road before, and it ended in the worst possible outcome. Toni deserves better than that.

“Am I not allowed to have my own beliefs?” Shelby tries, more half-hearted than anything.

Nobody fights her, but Dot says, “Not those ones.”

Realistically, Shelby knows not _everyone_ where she grew up was homophobic, but it wasn’t exactly something you advertised. Dot might be shaming her now for saying these things, but it isn’t as though she was the captain of the GSA or anything.

But here? Looking around? Even fucking Leah is mad at her.

It scares her to think that she could be accepted here. That she could have whatever she wants. That she could _be_ whoever she wants.

The stark reality is that Shelby doesn’t know what it’s like to be who you are. She isn’t even sure if she _has_ an identity, and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to go back to whatever she was doing before if she really, truly lets herself go.

So, she doesn’t. She just steels herself, and doubles down on whatever she thinks her father would tell her to say… until Martha practically vomits on her shoe.

And of-fucking-course, it’s Toni who gets sick. Like, really sick.

She and Martha both, but it’s Toni who’s currently lying in Leah’s arms practically comatose. Dot is saying something about how there’s only one medication for both of them, as if it’s even an argument.

“Come on, Dottie,” she practically begs, “it’s obvious who needs it most.”

Dot looks at Martha as if to ask permission, and Martha saying she’ll be okay without washes over the group in a blanket of relief.

“Okay, Toni,” Shelby says, willing her fingers to stop shaking, “I’m gonna need you to take this, alright?”

“Get away from me,” Toni hisses, but it comes out more like a croak. Her eyes are bloodshot when she opens them just enough to glare at Shelby, but the whole thing is highly ineffective considering she can’t even sit up on her own.

“Should Shelby really be on the front lines of this, considering the shit that just went down?” Fatin asks from the outskirts of the circle.

“I — I got this,” Shelby says, and tries not to cringe at how desperate she sounds. She takes a deep breath, and sets her attention back onto Toni. “If I put this in your hand, can you take it?”

“I’m not gonna take shit from you,” Toni mumbles with another attempt at a glare.

“It’ll save your _life_ , Toni,” Shelby growls, “you’re taking the damn pill.”

“Fuck it,” Dot says, “Shelby, give me the pill. I’ll fucking do it.”

“Shelby,” Leah pipes up, “give her the pill.”

And then everyone’s yelling at her, and Toni is glaring at her, and Shelby doesn’t understand how they don’t get that if Toni doesn’t take this pill she will _die_. Death is permanent, death is messy, and death doesn’t care if you weren’t done with someone.

_Apparently, her mom found her in her car._

There’s a sick feeling in her mouth, much like the one she carried with her that day on the porch. It was like an out-of-body experience saying those things, and she doesn’t even know where it came from.

Heck, she couldn’t even _hear_ herself.

The rushing in her ears was too strong, her vision was flashing red, and the feeling that took over, like it always does, was fear and misplaced anger. To this day, Shelby doesn’t really know what she said, too focused on the cold tremble of her fingers, but from the look on Becca’s face, it was bad.

The look on Becca’s face mimicked Toni’s in a sick, twisted sort of way, but fuck if it doesn’t bring her back to reality.

_I did that_ , Shelby thought then, and _I did that_ , Shelby thinks now.

She’s already lost one person over her own fear and pride, and the thought of losing another grips her stronger than any worry or rote Bible verse about the sins of the flesh that tries to front in her mind.

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ ,” she yells, letting the curse roll off her tongue in an entirely too Teeth Out moment, “Am I not allowed to help her?”

In one smooth movement, she knocks away Leah and has Toni flat on her back. She’s fully ready to bring her arm up to pin her down, but Toni is weak as it is, and her attempts to get up are feeble at best.

Her fingers come up to pinch Toni’s nose closed, and she’s wondering why the fuck Toni’s fighting so hard, and then her mouth falls open in a gasp, and Shelby takes comfort in knowing at least her will to live is stronger than her vendetta against _her_ at the moment.

Pill in, she clamps a hand over Toni’s mouth, freeing her nose, and her head falls to Toni’s shoulder as she waits to feel her swallow.

_Apparently, her mom found her in her car._

Toni doesn’t.

_The ambulance came…_

The medicine sits in her mouth like it’s taunting her.

_…but it was too late._

“Swallow. The fucking. Pill,” Shelby bites out, and the painful clench in her jaw is the only thing that keeps her grounded enough not to beg.

And then Toni does, coughing down the dry medicine in a little noise that sends exhales throughout the entire group, and Shelby is just sitting there, looking down on Toni’s body, and wondering why she let it get this far. Why, after Becca, she hasn’t fucking learned yet.

She pushes herself up, and walks off.

And it’s all fun and games being by herself, being the lone wolf, until Martha collapses next, and this time, there’s no pill.

“Why did you do it,” Toni begs, her lips screwed up in a frown. “Why did you give me the last one?”

“Toni…”

“You wasted it on me,” she says, cutting her off. “Look at her! Okay, she is a good person, and she cares about people, and people care about her, and she has a whole family, and you threw _me_ a lifeline.”

“Tony, you were dying,” Shelby says, wondering why the fuck this is still even a problem, but then —

“Who cares!” Toni yells, and the force of it takes her breath away. Not in volume of her cry, but in the way Toni holds those words as if she means them with all her heart. “I don’t matter,” she whimpers, “I don’t fucking matter.”

_I care_ , Shelby wants to say. _You matter to me,_ she wants to scream _. B_ ut she doesn’t.

**—**

Literally taking her teeth out is a pretty pivotal moment. It’s a Teeth Out moment on all accounts, literally and figuratively, and while she knows that it doesn’t change anything, in a way she wants it to. In a way, she wishes that they would just… hate her now, or something.  In a way, she realizes that all this time she’s been hyping up the tooth thing as her big secret, and her big imperfection, because deep down she knows it isn’t even close to what could actually come to the surface.

(So, you know, exactly what Toni said.)

It’s stupid, but all she can think about is her dad.

He held a Bible study group in their living room every Saturday morning, though she would later come to realize that’s not exactly all it was. It was a few men from their church who were strong, loyal, and unwavering in their faith, and then a rotating cast of characters.

They were all meek, and scared, and hung their heads low when they walked in and out. They poured over their Bibles for hours, with her father coming out every so often to grab a bite to eat, and then they went right back at it.

As she got older, she noticed they called it an “intervention” sometimes, and her mother even let slip that if this wasn’t enough, they’d be sent… well, she never figured that out. Her father cut her mother off, right about there, but Shelby was fifteen, and she got the message loud and clear.

And Lord, if the way her father looked at her after Becca —

“Just wanted to get a head start on the firewood situation.”

It’s Toni, who is somehow the person Shelby wants and doesn’t want to see most at the same time. She sighs. “I only came here to get some space. I’m not, like, up to anything.”

“Hey, I never took you for a special ops rat,” comes Toni’s nonchalant reply. “That’s Leah’s shit.”

Shelby can’t stop the scoff that bubbles up. “Right.” She turns, hating the way her voice is weak under the threat of tears when she says, “You just think I’m an asshole.”

“You say your prayers with that mouth?” Toni jokes, and gosh, if she only knew. Shelby cracks a smile, and it seems to encourage Toni, because she continues with, “Do you ever play pranks with those fangs of yours?”

“No,” Shelby says quietly. The way Toni is actually making an effort is throwing her off, so throwing caution to the wind, she stands. “You know, my — my issues with… well, whatever. Like, who you are.” She picks at a tree branch off to the side, but shoves her gaze directly into Toni’s. “I don’t hate you, Toni.” She practically begs her to understand what she’s trying to say, but Toni’s expression has already hardened by the time she says shakily, “You get that, right?”

“Yeah,” Toni says, words dripping with contempt, “you actually do, though. I saw your face. When shit got a little too gay for you, you fucking shuddered. That’s hate.”

Shelby wonders if there’ll ever be a day she can say the word as easily as Toni does, because right now she can barely think it.

There’s so much clamoring at the back of her throat to be said. There always is, really. By now, God has probably heard more of it than any actual person, but in this moment, all she wants is for Toni to understand is that she doesn’t hate _her_ , she hates _herself_.

And at this point, all that hate, it’s not even for being — for being… _like_ Toni, it’s for everything she’s done. More importantly, it’s for everything she hasn’t.

She just flashes a smile as best she can, and then says, “Let me help.”

Because she never could leave well enough alone, somehow they get to talking again, which inevitably means they get to arguing, and Toni is saying something about how she’s free, and there are no rules, and she can do whatever she wants, and it’s exactly what Shelby has been _afraid_ of this entire time.

The whole thing is just so infuriating because if she weren’t such a coward she would just say it, and the issue would be done.

But Toni is just talking and talking and talking, and the look on her face is back to a more playful frustration, rather than genuine hatred, and they’re getting closer and closer together, and then Toni is right there in front of her.

God, she’s beautiful.

She doesn’t know how much hand He had in creating Toni, because Shelby _does_ believe in evolution and genetics, at the very least, but her father has always told her that God only does beautiful, and that might be the only thing he’s even been right about.

Toni is beautiful, and she’s just so fucking frustrating. All the time. The way she speaks before she thinks, so polar opposite to the way Shelby rehearses everything she says in her mind six times before she says it, lest it come out wrong.

The way she’s passionate and emotional and strong and weak and all the things that a person _should_ be, not the plastic exterior Shelby’s constructed for herself. She always thought that identity was her armor, but it’s not, it’s just a shell.

Toni is still talking, and at this point their arguments are so over and over that Shelby can probably tell exactly what she’s saying without even listening. Toni stops after what feels like a conclusion, and before she can start again, Shelby shuts her up the only way she knows how.

She kisses her.

The thing she notices more than anything is the way this kiss brings her down to Earth. It’s not dizzying, except maybe for the lack of air, and it doesn’t float her off on some fantasyland. It grounds her. It holds her tight.  It tells her that this is what’s right. This is real. This is how it’s supposed to be.

And with one gentle exhale, it isn’t Toni’s lips on hers anymore, it’s Becca’s.

The warm breath on her lips, tender and comforting as ever. Breath she felt huddled behind a car in a haze of giggles and relief. Breath she felt in the safe blanket of night that helped her through all those sleepovers. Breath that should still be —

And then Toni’s kissing her back, and Shelby’s feeling the way, even in all her surprise, Becca pushed _into_ Shelby when they kissed. Just for a second. Barely enough pressure to even register, but at the time it felt like a promise.

_This_ kiss isn’t like that at all. Toni is kissing her back with a vengeance even Andrew never did. Her lips coax and beg and question and answer all at the same time, but all Shelby can think about is what it would be like to kiss Becca this way because she can see her face clear as day.

When they pulled back from the kiss, there was fear, sure, probably because of her father’s looming presence, but the rest of it? Becca wasn’t eyeing her with disgust or malice, her gaze was nervous, encouraging, wondering, and most of all, filled with love just the same as any other day.

It looked a lot how Toni is looking at her now.

Her lips tingle, and her fingers ache to reach out for Toni’s as they stand there, just watching each other. The breaths that run through her are shallow and scared and ready for more, but there’s an image in her brain of Becca’s mom finding her car and —

She can’t take it back. None of it. Not the words she hissed on her front porch in a sickening moment of fear and weakness, not the kiss she just gave to Toni in a moment of desperation and relief, and not the prayers she’s begged to God in moments of longing and anger.

She can’t take it back, so Shelby turns and runs.

She runs and runs and runs, away from Toni calling towards her retreating form, away from the memory of Becca and that stupid Sharpie, and away from the never ending judgment from God.

She runs because something is chasing her — the thing that’s always been chasing her. No matter how many turns she takes, or covers she rolls under, or boys she kisses, or pageants she enters, or promises and bargains she’s worried herself to sleep with, the thing is always on her heels.

Shelby even gets stranded on a fucking deserted island, and it _still_ chases her.

So she runs.

She runs because she’s worried it’ll catch up and grab her, and she runs because all she wants to do is slow down and let it.

**Author's Note:**

> spare a comment in this economy pls... or im quinnfebrey on tumblr, come chat!


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